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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28855548">the secrets we keep (preath)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/billiebaby15/pseuds/billiebaby15'>billiebaby15</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>woso</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Canon Lesbian Relationship, Christen press - Freeform, F/F, PREATH - Freeform, Tobin Heath - Freeform, US Women's Soccer National Team</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-19</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 04:53:54</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,416</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28855548</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/billiebaby15/pseuds/billiebaby15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The journey of Christen Press and Tobin Heath's relationship during the 2019 Women's World Cup. Cute fluff with no explicit scenes.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Preath - Relationship</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>55</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>the secrets we keep (preath)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>. . .<br/>
The sunlight filtering through the stadium was blinding. Christen jogged toward the corner of the field, her heart pounding in her ears. She could hear the roar of the crowd get louder as she got closer, a few people shouting her name. She looked up, up, shading her eyes. A bright shape against the dark cloud of stadium seats caught her eye. A flash of blond hair, a number 13 jersey. Of course, it’s always Alex with the little girls. Her gaze rested on the girl for a moment. About 10, maybe 11 years old, with eyes that told Christen she wanted to be on the field. Almost falling out of her seat to see over the crowd, eager as a puppy. Christen lifted her hand and waved at the girl. She didn’t expect the girl to know it was her she was waving at, and sure enough, the crowd around the little girl overtook her until Christen could no longer see her. But sometimes she needed a reminder like that. She was doing this for all the eager little girls who wanted to play soccer. All the kids who felt like they weren’t good at anything or didn’t fit in. That’s why she was here, in a stadium in Paris, surrounded by 20,000 people. But she had to focus- focus on the ground, her feet, the ball. She looked toward the goal… breathed in and held it… and time seemed to move in slow motion. She saw her leg swing back, forward, felt the impact of the ball on her ankle, heard the swish of it curving through the air, saw the players watching its trajectory, waiting, waiting. She saw the scuffle, saw Megan pop the ball up into the air, and saw Tobin head it. Suddenly, the crowd erupted in a volcano of cheers, going wild, as the ball punched the netting of the goal.<br/>
And she could breathe again.<br/>
. . . .<br/>
Christen’s chest still heaved from the stress of the corner-kick, even after five minutes. But they had won. They were going to the semifinals. She looked up at the oval of blue sky outlined by the stadium walls, reflecting her jubilation. It was peaceful to see the crowd slowly filtering through the doors, trickling out like water down a sink. A tap on her shoulder almost scared her. Tobin. She turned around abruptly to see Tobin’s messy hair and glowing face.<br/>
“That was fucking amazing, Chris. That was so awesome.”<br/>
Christen half-smiled, well aware of the cameras that still trailed the players like vultures. Tobin strode a couple paces until she was next to Christen. Rubbing the back of her neck, she absentmindedly tried to put her arm around Christen’s shoulder as she had countless times before. Christen’s heart leapt and she immediately shrugged Tobin’s hand away.<br/>
“Cameras,” she whispered through gritted teeth. “Just wait 'til we’re inside, okay?”<br/>
Tobin nodded and continued rubbing her neck as if waking from a dream, trying to hide her confusion from the flashbulbs that furiously clicked and snapped around them.<br/>
“Yeah, sorry.”<br/>
The blinding sunlight faded gradually as the team drifted under the overhang and into the locker room. As soon as they were fully inside and the door had closed behind them, Christen made a beeline for Tobin.<br/>
“Hey,” she said, still a bit breathless. “I’m sorry, it’s just- you know I hate them.”<br/>
“The photographers?”<br/>
“Yeah, them. And the cameras.”<br/>
Christen sat down hard on the bench and huffed out a breath.<br/>
“I just hate that we don’t have an ounce of fucking privacy. Why can’t they just mind their own business?”<br/>
Tobin half-smiled, in the suggestive way that always made Christen’s heart melt, and cocked her head.<br/>
“I know. I wish I could fuck you in public, but I can’t, so that’s that, I guess.”<br/>
Christen rolled her eyes a little and kicked Tobin’s ankle.<br/>
“That’s not what I meant.”<br/>
“That’s what I meant,” Tobin retorted, still smiling her goofy smile.<br/>
Christen shook her head and stood up, opening her locker.<br/>
“It’s the no-respect element of it. I wish I was more like Megan. She just doesn’t give a shit what people think of her.”<br/>
She turned around to face the middle of the room, watching her purple-haired teammate. Tobin casually leaned against the locker and nodded.<br/>
Christen shook her head again quickly, trying to clear it, and dug inside her locker for a sweatshirt.<br/>
“Anyway. Do you want to get Starbucks before we leave?”<br/>
Tobin narrowed her eyes, seeing through Christen’s calm facade.<br/>
“I wish you would stop feeling guilty about your mom. You shouldn’t have to beat yourself up about things you can’t control.”<br/>
Christen stopped rummaging in her locker and sighed heavily. This conversation was getting stale.<br/>
“I always hated keeping secrets from her.” Her voice was thin and fragile. “But she would have lost her shit if I ever told her I was gay.”<br/>
She tugged her sweaty number 23 jersey over her head and stuffed it back into her locker, now wearing only her sports bra. Her fingers found the cold metal cross around her neck and she stood there, silently, for a moment. Christen’s mother had given her the necklace to remind her of where she came from, the culture and religion she grew up in, to remind her not to forget it. But it really just reminded her of the stifling restrictions faith, and her mom, put on her. She didn’t understand why, if God really loved her, he would damn her to hell for loving Tobin with every fiber of her being. Her mother never knew what it had done to Christen, to lecture her on the evils of homosexuality, then hug and kiss her goodnight, with Christen knowing she would have to hide herself even more to make sure her mom never found out. Now her mom was gone. Gone from Earth, gone from Christen’s life. And she had never gotten the chance to tell the truth. She had wasted all their time together hiding, lying, keeping secrets. The guilt was like a rock on her chest, pressing against her ribs, squeezing the breath from her throat.<br/>
She was brought back to reality by a soft hand stroking the hot skin of her shoulder. Tobin. How long had she been standing there, away in her head, with Tobin staring at her? A blush heated Christen’s face, but Tobin’s expression remained serious.<br/>
“I’m sorry I even brought it up. I know you don’t like to talk about your mom.”<br/>
Christen shook her head and reached up to unclasp the necklace, throwing it into her locker among all the other things she’d rather not deal with right then.<br/>
“It’s okay, it’s fine. I’m fine.”<br/>
She felt Tobin’s eyes raking up her body, burning trails in her skin. She knew that look, the one Tobin gave her right before she was about to fuck her senseless.<br/>
“What?” she asked quizzically.<br/>
Tobin smiled, her eyes still flaming. She took a step closer and wrapped her arms around Christen, lacing her fingers into a knot at Christen’s lower back.<br/>
“Nothing,” she whispered mischievously. “But you are so hot.”<br/>
. . . .<br/>
Christen heard the click of the keycard opening her hotel room door. She had asked the lady at the front desk for three keys- one for her, an extra one in case she lost the first one, and one for Tobin. They were staying in different rooms because of roommate assignments, but Carli had cleared out an hour ago. They could finally be alone, really alone. No cameras, no crowds, no one watching them. The door opened and Tobin came in, quietly closing it behind her. Christen turned the TV off.<br/>
“Hi babe,” she greeted Tobin. “Did you bring it?”<br/>
Tobin held up her backpack, grinning suggestively.<br/>
“I don’t think I could forget it.”<br/>
She bent down to pull off her shoes and socks, gazing at Christen the whole time. Something stirred in the pit of Christen’s stomach looking at Tobin’s fiery eyes. She felt her blood boil and her skin tingled uncontrollably. Her heart fluttered desperately like birds’ wings. How was it possible to crave someone? To need them to physically survive? It never ceased to amaze her when she felt like that.<br/>
“Come here,” she whispered, reaching out her arms, needing Tobin to fill the space. Tobin bridged the gap between them in three steps and leaped on the bed, her lips crashing down on Christen’s. She smiled through the kiss at the feeling of being in Tobin’s arms. She was meant to be there, under Tobin, feeling her weight. She ran her hands along the length of her back, felt the muscles rippling like water- a perk of being a professional soccer player. Her breath caught as Tobin kissed trails on her neck, leaving marks burned into her skin, awakening her senses. Every inch of her skin was alive, shivering with the need to be touched. She ran her hands through Tobin’s hair, gripping it like she would never let go. Christen could feel Tobin’s energy sparking and pulsing through the air, and she knew what she was in for. Tobin tugged at her own shirt, pulling it over her head, all the while kissing Christen with absolute abandon. Her golden skin glowed next to her black Nike sports bra. Christen stared, drinking Tobin in like a woman dying of thirst, like she would never see water again. This was all she wanted- to stay here with Tobin forever, kissing and feeling the smooth skin up against her own, the long, graceful fingers caressing every bump, every imperfection. She was filled with so much love that her heart threatened to spill over. But she felt the charge of the air between them, like you could reach out and get an electric shock. Tobin was going to give her more, and she wanted more. She wanted as much as Tobin could give her, wanted her body to feel exhausted the next morning, covered with marks Tobin had left. She wanted Tobin to fill her up and hollow her out at the same time. And she knew that she would never have to say any of this out loud. Tobin would already know.</p><p>					  . . . .<br/>
Christen swung both legs over the side of the bed, bleary-eyed. She looked over at the alarm clock on the bedside table, glowing green in the fuzzy half-darkness. 6:25.  Tobin would probably have time to get dressed and go back to her room before everyone else woke up. Christen opened her phone with a click and saw a text from Carli she had missed last night.<br/>
i probably shouldnt come back tonight right<br/>
And then….<br/>
im guessing thats a yes (With the smiling devil emoji).<br/>
Christen huffed out a laugh. They never explicitly talked about their relationship in public or around their teammates. It was more like an unspoken truth passed between people through knowing stares, small smiles, small nods. Anyone with eyes could see that they were almost always roommates and bus partners during WNT training, and frequently slept in the same bed. No one on the team was a stranger to camp hookups. It happened. Maybe everyone assumed that Tobin and Christen were just “friends with benefits.” But Christen knew that Tobin was a private person. If their relationship ever went public, they would still never be one of those cringy, fake, PDA social media couples. Even if Christen did stay up composing long, romantic letters to caption imaginary Instagram posts. Even if part of her did want to scream out the hotel window that she was in love with Tobin Heath, that she wanted to love her for the rest of her life.<br/>
The muffled rustling of sheets made her turn around abruptly. In the cream-colored darkness of the room, Christen could see Tobin’s form moving, a tanned arm stretching out through the blankets. Christen crawled on her forearms across the bed.<br/>
“Morning,” she whispered, a smile bubbling through her voice.<br/>
Tobin half-grinned, her eyes cloudy with sleep, and her hair fanned out on the pillow like a halo. She sighed, a breath of contentedness leaving her lips. Christen leaned down to kiss her shoulder gently, the skin warm and smooth as the silky curtains hanging at the window. She closed her eyes and rested her chin where Tobin’s neck met her shoulder, breathing in the scent that was so unequivocally Tobin- lemon and Portland rain and peppermint soap she had stolen from an Airbnb in the Eastern Shore on their first vacation together. Christen remembered the mornings they spent there exactly like this, their minds and muscles five years younger, with Christen’s nose buried in Tobin’s neck. And she remembered the nights they spent in exploration, memorizing every curve and line of each other’s bodies.<br/>
She felt Tobin’s shoulder rippling underneath her chin and she pulled back to look in her eyes. Tobin’s eyes were midway between dark and golden brown, with flecks of green throughout that glinted when she was happy. Sometimes, Christen could gaze into Tobin’s eyes and completely lose herself, falling through those gleaming golden-green pools, seeing her future reflected.<br/>
Tobin untangled a hand from the knots of hotel sheets and fingered a lone curl of Christen’s hair. Her natural hair was a mass of unruly chocolate-colored curls waterfalling down her shoulders that she normally straightened to go out. It was always at its messiest in the morning, and Tobin loved it.<br/>
“Do we really have to get up?” Tobin sighed, her voice like gravel.<br/>
“I don’t want Carli to come back before we put clothes on,” Christen whispered, laughing softly at her playful immaturity. Tobin would stay in bed all day every day if she could.<br/>
Tobin blew out a breath and smacked herself in the face with a pillow.<br/>
“Ughh,” she whined. “Can’t you just tell Carli not to come back at all?”<br/>
“But she has to come get her clothes.”<br/>
Ignoring Tobin’s groans as Christen lifted herself from the bed, she padded over to the window to open the curtains, flooding the room with rosy morning light. The bed was illuminated in a shadowy halo. Christen felt Tobin’s warm fingers creep around her waist like crawling vines, caressing the smooth skin of her stomach. They stood at the window, looking out at the coral-golden roofs of the stately apartments that crowded their view of Paris, watching their time together draining away with the dusty night clouds.</p>
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